


A Youth Who Loves

by AuguriesofInnocence



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Daddy Kink, Endearments, M/M, Operation Woo, Peter's heels should be their own character imho, Seduction, That one where Peter seduces Tony using advice from Deadpool, and yes Peter shaved his legs for this, fluffy fluff, pulling out all the stops, truth is a viable seduction technique
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 13:44:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14874849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuguriesofInnocence/pseuds/AuguriesofInnocence
Summary: Running a hand through his already tousled hair he does a final check in the mirror. His hair is loose and sticking up in clumps, a definite bed-head aesthetic. Jean shorts, a giant oversized t-shirt that reads ‘Iron Man Wants YOU (to take off your clothes)’  hanging off one shoulder and, of course, blood red heels.Peter grips the edge of the sink, feeling the blood rising to his cheeks. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. exhaling shakily. So, worst case scenario, Mr. Stark kicks him out on his ass and never speaks to or looks at him again? Fuck. That's a horrifying scenario. Goddamnit.





	A Youth Who Loves

Peter can't help running his hands over the smooth expanse of his legs as he buckles the straps of his heels across his ankles. He's definitely jumping straight into the deep end here, but something about the deep red of the heel against his smooth pale skin, and the way his hips sway when he walks makes him feel confident, sensual.

 

Why, oh why, does Peter have to have giant heart eyes for Tony Stark, of all people? Tony Stark, who created an entirely new technological advancement in terrorist captivity in the middle of the desert. Tony Stark and his ridiculously attractive facial hair. Tony Stark, who was constantly surrounded by beautiful people on all sides, who had Pepper motherfucking Potts, Time’s person of the year, as his assistant for actual years. Tony Stark who, Peter's quite sure, still thinks of him as a child in cartoon underoos, and how does someone come back from something like that? 

 

And yet, all those things that put so much distance between them, are just more reasons for Peter to love him. Fuck. He loves Tony Stark.

 

Hence: Operation Woo, OW for short. Oh man, this is going to end so badly.

 

Damnit, what is taking Wade so long? This whole ill advised scenario is his fault, and if he doesn't show up to help with the follow through Peter's going to  _ find a way _ to kill him. Even though the bastard would probably enjoy it.

 

Running a hand through his already tousled hair he does a final check in the mirror. His hair is loose and sticking up in clumps, a definite bed-head aesthetic. Jean shorts, a giant oversized t-shirt that reads ‘Iron Man Wants YOU (to take off your clothes)’  hanging off one shoulder and, of course, blood red heels.

 

Peter grips the edge of the sink, feeling the blood rising to his cheeks. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. exhaling shakily. So, worst case scenario, Mr. Stark kicks him out on his ass and never speaks to or looks at him again? Fuck. That's a horrifying scenario. Goddamnit.

 

Peter walks over to the bedroom and flops listlessly onto the bed, staring up at what he’s pretty sure is a new life-form spawning on Wade’s ceiling. It’s black with green fuzz and shaped vaguely like a dick, which somehow seems very par for the course. It also appears to be smiling…no, smirking. It’s incredibly disconcerting. Trust Wade and Vanessa to have a judgmental smirky alien dick taking form on their ceiling laughing at Peter and the mariachi band currently living in his stomach.

 

“Fuck you, you stupid dick!” Peter murmurs, throwing his arm across his eyes and letting out a frustrated groan.

 

“Whoa Petey, I’m sorry I’m late but me and a team of the world’s most gifted scientist had to travel to the center of the earth to prevent-“

 

“No.” comes Vanessa’s smiling voice from the doorway.

 

“Vanessa and I had to fight a robot from the future because our unborn child was going to grow up and lead a revolution against our mechanical overlords.”

 

“That one’s true.” She says with a laugh, “and then we decided that it was our duty to protect the world from the rise of the machines so we got started on doing our civic duty immediately and-”

 

“We fucked in an alleyway!” Deadpool crows.

 

“We fucked in an alleyway.” Vanessa confirms.

 

Peter can’t help the smile that springs to his lips when he hears them high five and rolls over to face them.

 

Wade’s mask is pulled off and he’s bending towards Vanessa like she’s his world and he’s the moon his cratered face resembles. A thought which causes an immediate mental record skip that Peter’s surprised to realize isn’t actually audible to rest of the room. He’s obviously been spending way too much time with Deadpool.

 

“No such thing baby boy!” Wade says, pecking Vanessa on the lips, then flopping down on the bed next to Peter with a high-pitched giggle.

 

“What the hell. Was I thinking out loud? Or is this like that time with Cerebro again? Wade, that’s not what it does, and nobody wants to deal with Xavier sending that asshole Scott to retrieve it ever again either.” 

 

"No way, Peter Piper, you pickled pepper! Just all of your thoughts are broadcast on that adorable baby-face of yours!" Wade croons, smushing Peter's cheeks.

 

"Wawd, I dunt haf a bwby fwace" Peter manages.

 

"You sure do Spider-babe, an adorable pouty baby-face with X-rated lips." he says, booping Peter on the nose.

 

"Wade, I'm nineteen!"

 

"Aw, of course you are baby, you've got your big-boy booty shorts on and everything!" Wade says, laughing. The asshole.

 

"Fuck you Wilson!" huffs Peter, shoving Wade off the bed, who just rolls with it and pops right back up, like a daisy.

 

"Urgh." Peter groans, dramatically, "This is going to end in blood and tears and screaming, I cannot believe you had me thinking this was a good idea. It's the actual worst."

 

"Aw, baby boy that sounds like a fun night to me! I don't know what you're whining about."

 

"Besides," he says, standing at the foot of the bed and leering, "If Daddy Stark won't let you suck his cock, Daddy Deadpool will have a nice thick-"

 

"Wade!"

 

"...Sympathy steak waiting for you afterwards, what?" he says with a wink.

 

"Joking aside though Pete, you know Vanessa and I would love to have you anytime. In many different positions. Over the sofa, over the chair, over the table, over the-"

 

"What are you committing us to here, babe?" Vanessa asks, leaving the bathroom and draping herself over Wade.

 

"Sex with Peter, Ness."

 

"Oh, of course. Peter you're welcome anytime." she says, leaning over and applying fire engine red lipstick to Peter's lips. 

 

"Smush! Good, now let's go get you your man!" she says, wiping a stray smudge from his upper lip and smacking him on the ass, making the whole bed quake.

 

Ten minutes later he's bundled into the back of a cab with Vanessa, while Deadpool chatters along with Dopinder in the front seat. Vanessa holds his hand, looking at him fondly while Peter focuses on breathing and reminding himself that he's held that fate of the actual world in his hands before, he can handle a little seduction. He can!

 

"I can't handle this!" Peter says, eyes welling up."Mr. Stark is going to hate me! Oh my god, I'm wearing lipstick and heels and, fuck, my iron man night shirt and he's gonna, what, fall all over me, no no no no, I'm calling this whole thing off!"

 

"Peter!" Deadpool's voice cuts through his rising anxiety and Peter can feel himself snapping to attention.

 

"Yeah" he breathes.

 

"You've got this."

 

"I've got this."

 

"You're gonna do amazing kiddo. Go X-Force!" Deadpool says, pumping his fist in the air, accidentally smacking the roof of the cab in the process.

 

"So, Peter, how do you know DP exactly?" a Dopinder drawls jealously from the driver's seat, jerking the cab through rush hour traffic.

 

"Umm, well, there was a, and then we, but not like," Peter stammers, stymied.

 

"Awww, Dopinder, you sweet summer child, can't you see the family resemblance. Petey's obviously my S...smol son, my baby-boy, my adorable chosen child."

 

"Uh huh, DP this kid's not actually like, twelve, right? Because you know you're my best friend but-"

 

"Best Friend?"

 

"I'm  _ nineteen _ !" Peter shouts in frustration, nerves momentarily forgotten.

 

Finally, they pull up to Stark Tower, and it's only years as the acrobatic wall climbing Spider-Man and a timely ruckus of a distraction, courtesy of DP and co., that allow Peter to make it to the elevator unseen and unhindered.

Peter has been here often enough that this incarnation of himself would be...awkward to explain to building security, even though Happy and Pepper have long since moved on and settled down with their own family...  _ especially  _ since Happy and Pepper have moved on.

 

Mr. Stark's almost respectable at this point, and Peter doesn't want to be the one to break his scandal-less streak in the media.

 

Peter's hands have stopped shaking, his body geared up for battle, if only his heart would follow suit.

 

He would stroll into hell to save an adversary, but listening to F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s cheery, "Welcome back, Mr. Parker, what floor are you going to today?" and asking for the penthouse is by far the most terrifying thing he has done to date.

 

All the ‘training wheels’ protocols had long since been removed from the suit, so Karen hadn't even questioned why he would need an update on Mr. Stark's schedule; after all, it wasn't the first time he'd asked. Usually, though, he was asking to coordinate science or super-heroing not, not this.

 

Not putting on a sexy outfit and trying to, to  _ seduce  _ Tony Stark.

 

It's not like Peter didn't know the whole concept was super iffy, risky behavior. He knew. But he didn't just get to this last ditch effort out of nowhere.

 

Ever since he turned eighteen he'd been dropping hints: placing a hand on Mr. Stark's arm, sucking Iron Man pops, complimenting Tony's accomplishments; and okay, yeah, maybe he'd watched too much porn and relied on Ness and Deadpool for most of his advice, but what was he supposed to do? He'd even tried asking him out for coffee, but he'd just gotten confused and said there was a premium Stark-tek espresso machine down the hall, why the hell would Peter want Starbucks?

 

Deadpool suggested he show up naked in Tony's bed, which, just...no.

 

So here he was, commencing Operation OW.  He'd tried to do the 'Right Thing' his whole life, please, just this once, let him have this, he silently pleaded.  

 

Not that Mr.Stark’s feelings on the matter aren’t important, they’re more important to him than anything.  If Mr. Stark didn’t want him, he...well, he supposed he wouldn’t be surprised. He’d be disappointed but he’d accept it.  Mr. Stark was a strong independent superhero who didn’t need no Spider-Man! Or...something.

 

Sometimes though, even after all the betrayals he had suffered, all the loss and disappointment, Tony still watched Peter with soft eyes, and Peter hoped.

 

Peter had watched as the Avengers grew and changed. Old faces moving on, new faces coming in, using Mr. Stark's tech, his building, his friendship. Mr. Stark fought for his team, this world, his friends. He was surrounded by beautiful people, powerful people, people Peter could never measure up to.

 

It seemed like Tony gave and gave to everyone else, never asking for, or receiving, much in return.  He'd given Peter a suit, supervision, health supplements, and eventually his own lab at the tower. Sometimes, after a night of patrolling, Peter would swing by the lab and Tony would be there, working on a new batch of arrows for Hawkeye or improving Bucky's arm. The warm lights of his lab were a beacon in the dark, illuminating Tony working hard for his team...alone.

 

Peter wanted to walk in and run his hands through Tony's hair. Wanted to wrap his arms across Tony's shoulders and, handing him a cup of coffee, swoop down and kiss him until the worry eased off his face. Something had always stopped him from stepping out from the dark.

 

Peter doesn’t have much to give Tony, only himself. All he can do is hope that’s something Tony wants as much as he does. It's very possible that Peter's going about this all wrong; but he's already got both feet firmly in the breach, and there's no going back.

 

Peter checks his watch, blinking 9:45 at him, backlit in green. He has about 45 minutes until Mr. Stark returns from his late meeting with S.W.O.R.D. Now all Peter has to do is set the scene and hope beyond reason that this will be enough to make Tony really look at him. Maybe he'll want him enough to extend a hand, and Peter will finally be able to cross that threshold, be allowed to care for him the way he's wanted to for so, so long.

 

Friday lets him into Tony's private suite with very little commentary, making Peter wonder, not for the first time, just how much she and Karen communicate.

 

"Friday?" Peter asks, artfully draped across the sofa in his best attempt at an enticing pose.

 

"Yes, Mr. Parker?" came F.R.I.D.A.Y.'s voice, prompt as always, and Peter was obviously anthropomorphising her, because no way did she sound amused right now.

 

"This, umm, this is okay right?"

 

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Mr. Parker."

 

"R-Right."

 

Peter's watch clips on past 10:30, then 11, then 12. He cycles through several poses on the couch, the armchair, the marble countertop and the floor, then back to the couch again; listening to AC/DC, then Pink Floyd, because he pays attention to Mr. Stark, before finally giving in and just putting on alt-J.

 

The face of Peter's watch reads 1:12 am, and he doesn't even feel himself nodding off.

 

Peter wakes softly, and slowly, to the feeling of someone's hand running through his hair. He can't remember the last time he's felt so content, warm, and safe.

 

"Jesus Christ, kid, is all of this for me?"

 

Peter's eyes snap open and he's wide awake, staring straight into Mr. Stark's warm brown eyes.

 

"Mr. Stark, I, umm, Tony!" Peter gasps, flustered, feeling his plan falling apart before he could even get started.

 

His heart tightens in his chest, and there's a buzzing in his ears, breath stuttering.

 

"Shh, sweetheart, I didn't mean to startle you. You're fine, you're alright." Tony says, sitting down on the sofa and dragging Peter over so he's resting against his chest, stroking his hands up and down Peter's arms.

 

"You going to let me in on the surprise kiddo?" Tony asks, a smile in his voice.

 

Peter finally gears up the courage to sit up, so he reluctantly pulls away from Mr. Stark, fiddling with his hair, then adjusting his shirt, and then raising his eyes to Tony's face.

 

There are crinkles at the corners of Tony's eyes, his lips quirked into a smile. His hair is well groomed as always, although the knot of his tie is loosened. The top button  of his shirt is undone and Peter can see a bit of salt in the pepper of his goatee. He could trace every inch of that smiling face for hours but he makes himself raise his eyes to meet Tony's.

 

"I'm here to seduce you Tony," Peter says plainly, because honestly it's kind of obvious, and Tony Stark never was a fool. Because it's the truth. Because Mr. Stark is smiling at him and held him when he panicked, and he very badly wants to be in those arms again.

 

"Alright beautiful, I've only got one question for you, and I need you to be honest with me, and with yourself. Why?"

 

"Why? Umm, I don't understand Mr. Stark-"

 

"Not that you aren't pretty as a picture, all laid at here for me, with my suit on your shirt, iron man red lips and shoes, christ kid, those fucking shoes. But why the hell are you offering this all up to me, of all people? You've seen me in enough embarrassing situations that I should've been knocked clean off that pedestal, and I know it's not the money because I know  _ you  _ Peter, so, why? Because believe me when I say, you can do better." 

 

"Because, Mr. Stark, umm, Tony. Tony, I love you." Peter says, and for the first time Tony looks uneasy, shaken, almost scared.

 

"Peter-"

 

"Tony," Peter interrupts, because he knows, better than anyone, that fear can make people say foolish things. But he's beginning to feel brave. "You might think I can do better, and maybe I can, then again, maybe I can't. Maybe I don't want to, or maybe I don't think that there's anyone out there better for me than you. But not once have you said that you don't want this. Don't want me."

 

"Fuck. Fuck, kid, Peter. Who wouldn't want you? But this is such a bad-" he stops himself, pauses. Looks at the mini bar in the corner of the room, looks at this hands, looks at Peter. "You know what, no, I have lost enough people, and seen too much to waste time with the right thing. That was never my deal anyway. You sure about this?" He asks.

 

Peter nods, he was sure before he walked through the door, before he got in the cab, he was sure back when he was counting down the days to eighteen and then for the entire year afterwards.  He's done waiting.

 

He leans over, and presses a slow kiss to Tony's lips, leaving a smear of red lipstick in his wake.

 

Tony's smiling at him again, and Peter feels the warmth in his chest rise into his cheeks, aflame with joy and burning for him.

 

"Gotta hear you say it Peter. And remember, you can change your mind any time, just say the word."

 

"I'm sure." he says, biting at his lower lip, and once again Tony is pulling Peter against him, but this time he can feel the intent and he offers his mouth up to him. Mr. Stark's lips are warm against his, moving gently.

 

"C'mon sweetheart, open up for me, just a bit, good boy Peter, that's it." he says, and then his tongue is firm in Peter's mouth and Peter feels himself melt against him. Tony kisses him again and again, holding Peter tighter as Peter relaxes, giving gentle tugs to his hair until he comes up for air.

 

When they pull apart, Peter's breath comes in shaky gasps and he feels glazed over, like maybe if Mr. Stark wasn't holding on to him so tightly he could just float away. But it's all great, it’s wonderful, because Mr. Stark tightens his grip on Peter's hair, tilting his neck back and sucking hot red marks down the line of his throat.

 

"You're doing so well for me baby, you feel so good." Mr. Stark says, and Peter could bask in the warmth of his words forever, could do this forever. But then Mr. Stark thumbs open the top of his jean shorts and he sliding down Peter's-

 

"Fuck, fucking Christ, baby, are you trying to kill me?"

 

Peter's limited edition iron man boxers and wrapping a large work calloused hand around Peter dick, already red and weeping.

 

"God, you're gorgeous, sweetheart, you're perfect, being so good for me. Hold on baby, don't move, just a moment." Tony says, and then he's laying Peter down gently on his side, sliding off the couch.  _ Tony Stark _ is gently unbuckling Peter's heels at the ankles and sliding them off his feet and over to the side of the couch. Peter can't hold back the whimper that escapes at that.

 

"Shhh, sweetheart, just don't want you to hurt yourself, are you doing okay baby? Talk to me."

 

"Please Mr. Stark, please touch me, oh my god, just, whatever you want, I..."Peter trails off with a sob because Mr. Stark is taking Peter's cock in his mouth. He doesn't think he can talk anymore, everything just feels so good. Mr. Stark's mouth is warm and wet, and when Peter's hips jerk up he just takes it in deeper, humming around him, and Peter shakes and comes with a choked off, "Fuck, Daddy!"

 

And he's shaking, coming down from his orgasm, and then he just keeps shaking because what the actual fuck had he just said, that's definitely not something you bring out on the first...whatever, and definitely not without talking about it and what is Tony going to think of him now?

 

But Tony is still sitting at his feet, and he's got his dick in hand, fisting it so fast it's a blur, and he's wide-eyed and flushed and looking at Peter like Peter's done something amazing.

 

"Fuck, yeah, you came here in that giant shirt with my name on it, and painted your lips so pretty, and wore those heels all for your Daddy, didn't you baby. Fuck, baby, say it again."

 

" _ Daddy"  _ Peter says again, helplessly, and watches as Tony comes in his hand, at Peter's feet, leaning his head to rest on Peter's stomach as, red-faced, he gulps in air.

 

"Jesus fuck, sweetheart, that was," he chuckles, "that was a revelation."

 

"Oh my god Tony, I would apologize, but I did notice you very much did not mind." Peter says, his relief palpable.

 

"Mind? Hell kiddo, if only I were a bit younger I'd say give me fifteen minutes and we could go again, but I'm afraid you're just going to have to stay the night, so we can get another round in." he says.

 

"Just tonight?"

 

"Peter," Tony says, joining him on the couch and gathering into his arms for a third time that night, "as far as I'm concerned you can stay until you get sick of me."

 

"Forever then."

 

"Yeah, okay. You win. Forever." he says, and Peter can just hear his eyes crinkling, and the wistful smile resting on his lips. He guesses that some of Deadpool's plans can work out after all. Who'd've thought.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title is courtesy of Walt Whitman. Special thanks to my lovely betas lavenderlotion and MerWorldProblems, any mistakes left are my own. Thanks so much for reading, I appreciate all of you!


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